Ice Queen
by Chappy101
Summary: The winter world is a very lonely place to be in... No real summary, because I suck at making them, so click to find out! WARNING: CANON X OC (not romantically) Rating may change later. Title changed. Cover Image created by *moni158 in deviantart.
1. Chapter 1

It was always a bustling sensation at the Pole, whether it was Christmas or not. The same at the Warren, even if Easter was months away. The only time they had any rest was probably the day after their respective holidays; a quick break before going to work again. At the Tooth Palace, however, there was no such thing as "a breather". The same goes for the Sandman; at least the Tooth Fairy had her tiny fairy minions to help. These aspects, however, isn't what got Jack thinking about the helpers of the Guardians. Were the elves and yetis already a living species, traveling along the North Pole before Nick recruited them? How is it that huge rocks and small eggs can travel on their own? Jack thought it as some sort of magic, but the Easter Bunny had said otherwise.

"They were once alive," the Pooka said, patting one of the boulders gently with his paw. "I helped save their spirits an` put `em in here."

"What about the eggs? They just happened to lose their magic once they reach human ground?" Jack questioned further.

E. Aster nodded. "Yep. _They're_ the magical ones. The boulders, howeva`, are a different story."

And what about Tooth's fairies; just how many of them were there exactly, and was Toothiana their "mother" so to speak? Where did they come from? Was Tooth like them before? If the Minifairies were her children, then where was the "father"? Unless Jack didn't pay attention to Jamie's studies in Health class, he was pretty sure that there was supposed to be a male and a female in the equation.

The human/hummingbird hybrid had blushed when Jack asked her the said question. "No, no! My fairies are like sisters to me."

Other than that, Tooth wasn't very helpful in explaining either. She was busy collecting teeth, like any other day. Having no one else to talk to, Jack had ventured out to seek Sandy. Surely the small golden man can help him, if only a little considering the fact that he couldn't speak. But, as it turns out, and it was rather ironic, the Sandman actually helped him a lot.

"I'm just wondering how North ever found the yetis or the elves, or Cottontail with his giant egg-rocks, or where Babytooth came from."

Jack swung his legs under him as he sat on a cloud of gold sand, watching the magic dust fly down to children's dreams. Sandy had listened to him carefully while working, making sure to keep an eye out for any lurking shadows that might try to pounce...

The younger Guardian concentrated as they continued on with a game of charades, which is what they always do when Sandy tried to communicate. Being new to the group, it wasn't easy for Jack to tell what Sandy was saying, but it was fun to try. The Sandman created images on top of his round head, indicating the start of the game. Jack saw a Santa hat and stockings, representing North, then a figure of a yeti. It took a while to decipher, but Jack was able to figure out that the yetis had already existed before North was even chosen by Man in the Moon.

"So they were like those mythical creatures people talked about? Like Bigfoot," Jack guessed.

Sandy nodded. He raised a finger and the figure of the yeti returned, along with an equal's sign and a giant footprint.

"Oh, I get it! People must have spotted the yetis and their legends came down to what we have now."

Sandy nodded again. And it was true, people have claimed to have seen Bigfoot, or the Sasquatch, further down South people saw sightings of the C_hupacabra_. Well, what a mess that must have been.

"What about the elves?" Jack pressed on.

The spirit of dreams created more golden sand, images of elves, Minifairies and giant egg-rocks coming to view.

"They all have something in common?"

Once more, Sandy nodded. It took a while, but Jack was finally able to understand. And what he found out, he didn't like.

"You're telling me that they were once human?" Jack stood up, feeling something stir in his stomach uncomfortably. "_Children?_" When Sandy didn't make a move to answer, Jack bellowed. "But we're _Guardians!_ We're supposed to _protect_ children, not suck their souls up into our personal slaves!"

Sandy started to shake his head, but Jack brushed him off.

"No! I won't have it!" He finally took in deep breathes and regained his cool. The wind had picked up and this place was supposed to be in a warm season right now. "I'm going to go talk to North. He's got some explaining to do."

Sandy didn't stop Jack as the white-haired boy flew into the skies, heading toward the Pole. When the spirit of fun arrived at the Pole, he was greeted by warm welcomes from the elves, who were pushing trays full of cookies and cups with hot cocoa. Jack took one look at them and he started to feel sick. He felt a huge hand smack his back enthusiastically, and his chest thrummed along with North's good-natured laugh.

"Glad to have you, Jack! Come, I show you something. I know that you'll like."

Jack let him guide him toward his office, where the boy stayed put after the door closed behind them. Jack's jaw was set and his eyes wavered. "North. We need to talk."

The older Guardian sensed something in the boy's voice, and he immediately became serious. "What is wrong?"

Jack silently breathed in before continuing. "I know where the elves come from, North."

The spirit of wonder didn't seem surprised. "Ah. So you figured out_?_"

"Yeah."

North sighed, then he motioned to a chair. "Sit. This is difficult thing to explain."

"Not as difficult as turning children to mythical beings, I hope," Jack accused, and even _he_ was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. But he wasn't going to take it back. He sat down and waited as North did the same.

"How to begin?" the big Russian spirit said as he made the chair tilt slightly.

Jack shrugged. "From the very start, I guess."

"Right, well in the beginning there were children. Lives in danger, _then_ I take."

The white-haired boy put his hands up. "Wait, wait. Slow down. Lives in danger?"

Nick nodded. "_Da_. I've stopped taking long time ago. I've stopped marking."

"Marking?"

"Or claiming," it was his turn to shrug. "_Vse ravno_, don't matter."

"But what does it mean?" Jack began to feel frustration boil up in his chest. "Why would you do something like that? Children aren't property, you can't just—"

North stopped him. "It is not like that!" He watched Jack flinch at his harsh tone and the older man softened by saying his name gently, "Jack." He sighed and continued. "Some children choose, and some we gather. The ones we claim, or mark, are the ones who were dangered."

"So, you...saved them," Jack inquired, shaking his head. "From what?"

Nick shrugged again. "Whether natural causes, or maybe dying from sickness. We save. Orphans, kids who go missing, they all chose their own path. I have missing kids, little boys. Tooth have orphans. Girls, of course."

"She gave them a family," Jack said, feeling his anger subside little by little. "And Bunny has the ones who were in danger, right, and he put them in those boulders?"

"_Da_."

Jack slumped against his seat. "Do they still know they're kids? Do they remember anything?"

North shook his head. "_Net_, they do not. Is easier that way. If they remember past life, they sadden."

Jack nodded. "I guess it's better that way, since they didn't have much when they were alive."

"They are still alive, Jack."

"Just contained."

It was North's turn to slump in his seat. "_Dostatochno_," he said hoarsely, rubbing his temples. "I have enough of this."

Jack raised to his feet. "So do I." He made his way to the huge window on the wall behind North's desk and opened it. He jumped to the ledge and glanced behind his shoulder for a second. "I'll see you later, North."

The tired man only raised a hand, indicating that he had heard, and Jack left.

* * *

**You guys, I'm going to need your help: I NEED OC'S. **

**Whether it's yours or a friend's, or both, just Inbox me the information about your OC & I'll pick out the ones I like, or the ones who fit into the plot better. **

**This is probably weird. And many (actually, the _whole_ off ) don't know me, but I really want to do this, and I'll give it all my best to make this work. Just to let you know, if you're going to allow me to use your OC, there will be deaths in this story... Ooh, suspenseful. . **

**You can also Inbox me & let me know if you'd like me to add anything to your OC; if you want them to do a certain scene, if you want your OC to be a rival to mine for some reason, or if they're the best of buds, or if you're not okay for your character's... em, _departure_ from the plot. Don't worry, I won't make _every one_ die (unless you're okay with that; again, this is totally up to you). **

**I'll probably work on the next chapter starting next weekend, so if you're interested, you better make it quick. I want to be able to feel like I know your OC, like, if I really _knew_ your OC. Send as much information as you can; and, again I'm saying, you don't have to. Just if you're interested. I don't want to make people feel like I'm obliging them to. **

**Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Alright, new chapter done. And there are a few things you should know before reading ahead:**

**1) My OC makes her very first appearance here. But not all her information will be given out, I like to make for a mysterious feeling. **

**2) Another OC (which is _not_ mine) is also displayed for you beautiful viewers to see. This OC is Raven, from *Raven-Protector of Night. She has been so kind as to let me borrow her OC for this plot. **

**3) I'm still open for anyone else to let me see their OC's. There's no deadline, but if you're interested in seeing your OC in this story, you'll have to act fast, because there is a limit of how many characters I'll pick. **

**Other than that, please enjoy! :)**

* * *

Jack had thought about going to the pond, but something told him to go straight for the woods. And then he remembered: his house. Now that he was an official Guardian, the others thought it nice if he had gotten his own "official" place; like Aster with the Warren and Tooth with her palace. Jack thought it unnecessary. After all, a winter spirit's home is the outside, and it should never try to be contained. And Jack didn't even know if Sandy had his own home, so why should he? But it was a nice place he got, he admit that he likes it.

He flew toward the woods, all the way to the heart of a certain cave, then he touched the walls and frost materialized from the contact. He looked up, where there was ice encrusted onto the ceiling, icicles hanging dangerously low. There was a pond at the base of the cave, frozen thick; a nice trick to hide his home. Jack stepped on to the frozen puddle and he waited until he heard the cracks, then came the fall, then came the soft landing of his bed. Jack looked up in time to see the pond refreeze above his head, sealing the portal shut.

Jack sighed as he slumped down, loving the cool feeling of the silk blankets and cloud-soft bedding that his body was residing on at that moment. He surveyed his home from where he layed. The glass house was in another dimension so to speak, like how North's workshop isn't really at the Pole; it's _there_, but not _there-there_. Like, if you needed the password to enter a certain place, that's how it usually works: North can go anywhere with his snow globes, Cottontail can visit the world with a thump of his foot, and Jack can make a glass house appear in an abandoned wood. And that's where his dimension resided, in the woods.

He looked outside his glass walls, which were always kept clean somehow, and he admired the perfect cold world outside: the dark, thick trees heavy-burdened with snow; the falling snowflakes, which looked like they were dancing to Jack; and, of course, the winter-blooming flowers. It was weird, and he never thought about it, but there were always some stubborn shrubs that never withered during the cold season. Bunny had actually shown him a few, and Jack was okay with the Pooka coming over to help him pick out a few to plant. There were mahonias, ultra-fragrant daphnes, some evergreen shrubs, a few of the so-called "Christmas rose" that are actually hellabores, a lot of winter jasmine, a few of the coppery orange flowers of "Jelena" witch hazel, there were red river lilies, some more witch hazels, and (these are Jack's favorite) a whole bunch of snowdrops (_Galanthus_) and snowflakes (_Leucojum_ and _Acis_). Bunny had picked out the _Leucojum_ specifically for Jack.

"They're Spring Snowflakes," the Pooka had explained. And then he shrugged. "Or Summer Snowflakes, Lodden Lilies. You can name `em whateva` you'd like."

"For a tough guy, you sure know a lot about flowers," Jack had teased.

"Don't push it, Frost. I only came `cause I felt like bein` nice."

But the flower Jack had really liked were the snowdrops, they make for an awsome carpet; they blanketed most of the woods impressively, even more so than his own snow. Because of the flowers, his house always smelled nice and fresh and new, which fitted the glass display that were his walls. This place was so calm, so serene... He'd stay there his whole immortal life if it wasn't for his responsibilities as both a Guardian and a winter spirit.

"If only the world was always like this," Jack said, and then he smiled bitterly. "But then again, that doesn't make me any better than Pitch."

Just wording that name aloud in the empty room, with no one but himself, sent shivers down his spine. And speaking of the devil, just what was Pitch Black doing right now? Jack had learned about the Boogeyman's history, how he had been overwhelmed by fearlings, and the winter spirit couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. It was said that he was a great hero, battling against the darkness and fear, an ironic twist for what he stands for now. It wasn't Pitch's fault he had turned the way he had. Jack shrugged off the thought, then let his eyes slowly close, and he drifted into a sound sleep.

_Just what I've been needing..._

* * *

_This is just what I needed..._ Rose thought sarcastically, as she stepped out of the ice rink and brushed her long tangled hair with her frost-bitten fingers.

She stepped forward carefully, the ice skates clicking their way toward a nearby bench with her deluxe skate bag on it. She sat down and replaced her ice skates for her Helly Hanson's snow cutter boots; they were white and trimmed with light and dark brown fur, they were very cute, and they were very expensive. The same with her Charles River's white fur-trimmed hoodie, and her printed leg warmers, and the bag, and the ice skating gear in her bag, and so on... But really, Rose Blair wasn't to blame for being born from rich parents. Her mother is a well-known poet who publishes her works in the newspaper, she had a few books that sold millions. And her father was a lawyer who won every case imaginable, and who died in a coma after being in a terrible car accident when she was twelve, leaving her and her mother to bask in his multi-trillion-dollar will. But enough of that, what had made Rose anxious and tempted to actually enjoy the big fireplace at her victorian mansion was the sudden change of the wind.

_There's going to be a storm_, she thought as she glanced up at the sky. Her gaze saddened as she began to walk away from the ice rink. _This was the only time I had for myself and the weather decides to go ballistic on me. Just what in this world did I do to deserve this bull?_

London, England isn't big on blizzards, but the climate can get very cold and there had been snowed-in days on occasions.

_I'll just have to come back tomorrow_, the girl thought with a sigh.

Rose took out her black-and-blue Htc One from Verizon and sent her mother a quick text message to inform her that she'd be on her way to the house. There was a flap of wings and squawks that sounded behind her, and she turned to see one single crow land on a nearby tree.

_Or is that a raven?_

She never could tell the difference between the two birds, and she probably would never know because she just didn't care enough to figure it out. She kept on walking and ignored the stares that the black bird gave her—she knew it was staring, she could _feel_ its beady eyes gazing directly at her. She stepped into her white 2014 Lamborghini Gallardo, a gift from an ex-boyfriend that she thought unnecessary (she's only seventeen for Christ's sake), and floured it into 90 mph, a speed that she knew would make her mother's heart speed up and turn into an emotional wreck. But that's okay, because Rose was also a wreck.

_Who am I kidding? I'm a hot mess. Ever since my father died, ever since I stopped fantasizing about flimsy fairy tales, there had been strange things happening. Especially during the night. And I don't think I've had a good night's sleep since..._

Rose thought as she kept the speed limit to a level, slowing down when she met the city streets.

_I don't think I even dream anymore._ A bitter smile met her lips. _Another box to check for the therapist._

She turned on the radio and cranked up the volume. Maybe if she's lucky, there'll be another car crash. This time, with her in it.

* * *

Pitch Black had watched as the girl skated on the man-made ice, all alone, out in the open, and unprotected against an unsuspected attack. Then the temperature seemed to drop by two degrees, dark gray clouds formed above, and a gust of wind picked up from the north. The female mortal gathered her things before she drove off, speeding up the very moment she turned on the vehicle. Amusement lifted in his chest whenever she acted so recklessly.

_An interesting little thing she is._

The boogeyman waited until the car disappeared between the buildings of the city, he watched a raven fly after the car and he knew he was also being spied on. He looked up to see a small figure up in the air.

_I knew I felt someone familiar nearby._

He poured into the ground as a shadow and headed to Burgess.

* * *

A young-looking girl with pale peach skin and purple-black hair stared down from her viewing point; which was about ten feet above the tallest tree. Her gold eyes had narrowed when she saw the young human girl get out of the ice rink, and she lifted her arm to raise her pet raven into the air.

"Follow her home," the girl ordered the raven. "And keep an eye on her."

The raven, which goes by the name of Night, flapped its wings and flew steadily to the nearest tree. The sound of his wings caused the human girl to turn around and look up at the obsidian-feathered bird, her cornflower blue eyes wavering for a moment before making her way to the car. The witch stayed put even as the mortal girl was way out of sight, along with her dear Night. She felt the presence of Pitch Black disappear a moment after and then she decided to leave as well.

_Just what is he up to? What does this human have that he wants?_

No matter, his actions were suspicious enough to consult the Guardians. But she didn't want to tell them, they'll just confine her from going off on her own again. This wasn't the first time she kept her eyes on Pitch, and the others wanted to keep her from going to him. Well, that just defeats her purpose, doesn't it?

_As protector of the night, I promised myself that I wouldn't let any harm come to those who are in need of my help. Especially when it comes to nightmares._

And Raven always kept her promises.


	3. Chapter 3

_An interesting little thing she is._

Whether or not Pitch had confirmed with himself, he was intrigued with the young human girl. He hadn't noticed until recently, maybe a few weeks, but there was something uncanny about her. Every person had a certain light to them, a small halo glowing around their bodies, some brighter than others. It was a mythical being's way of seeing if a human believes in them or not. And the blonde female does not have that glow.

_If that is so, then why was she able to see me?_

Of course, she could be one of those who could see mythical creatures without believing in them, whether she liked it or not; kind of like people with a sixth sense, the ones who claim that they could see, or sense, ghosts. Pitch Black and the Guardians have had certain encounters with the wandering spirits a few times, more often than not, Pitch being the one who mostly came across them. And since a few ghost children like to trail after complete strangers, Pitch had managed to get one in the same room as the human female. It was a bit of work, but it was worth it in the end to see that the young girl could, indeed, _not _see the ghost. But she was able to see _him_. And so, it became amusing to mess with the teenager. Being naturally selected as the impossible ones to frighten (the human teenagers that is), it was entertaining to see her yelp in surprise and eyes widen in shock at the sight of him. But the fun only lasted up to a day. He visited her a few times, sometimes staying overnight, to see if he could still be "a bother", as she had put it. She doesn't really speak to him, she didn't even look his way, but Pitch knew the girl could. She just didn't want to.

_Well, that's a little rude._

She even spoke to one of her servants about him, like a second-person thing.

"Have you ever had someone who wouldn't leave you alone no matter what?" she had asked.

The servant shook his head. "Is there someone bothering you, _ma fille_? A boy, perhaps?"

The said girl only shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He's a bother, though. Stubborn as a pesky fly that just _won't go away_." She had looked his way for a mere second, glared at him with those dagger eyes of hers, before turning around to grab a water bottle and run out the door for soccer practice.

He was used to it, but he had gotten angry nonetheless, so one thing came to another and he decided to try to give her a nightmare, which he hesitated to do. Having been defeated a while back, being attacked by his own Fearlings, it was a torturous and slow process to have control over the shadows again. But he wasn't _completely_ in charge, and he was afraid—no, _worried_ (yes worried, fear isn't afraid of anything) that the Nightmares might go rampant and turn on him. But when Pitch finally picked up the courage to try it anyway, he was shocked when he saw that nightmares were already swirling above the young female's head.

_It shouldn't be much of a surprise. Fear hides in everyone's heart, it can never be truly tamed._

Still, it was a nice sight to see. Watching her squirm under the covers, her forehead beading with sweat, her eyes tightly shut while she bit her lower lip. But when the girl had enough, she opened her mouth and out came the sweetest, most painful and tormented scream Pitch had ever heard. It rang in his ears for days after that night, and he feasted on her nightmares alone, becoming more in control of the Fearlings. He then made a test-run and gave the girl a nightmare of his own, and he was pleased with the results. He would have to thank her for making him stronger, perhaps more powerful than he was before.

But Pitch isn't completely cruel, he had watched her nightmares with fascination, satisfied to see a human make their own night-terrors but also stunned at what the girl dreamt about. It was something out of a movie, all laid out and perfectly organized. Pitch had managed to figure out the figures in her dreams: a younger version of herself, her mother, and what must have been her father. The dream started out normally, gold sand emanated pictures of the girl running with her family, playing and actually _smiling_ (Pitch had never seen the teenager smile during the day). But then the gold sand would darken like his ashen skin, and then be as dark as his cloak. There would a car, it would swivel, there would be another car, and then a crash. Black fire sprang from the ruined vehicle before the girl would spring up from her mattress and yell for her father over and over again.

"_Père! Père!_"

Then either the mother herself or the maids would slam into the room and take the girl in their arms, shushing her, petting down her hair, rocking her back to sleep. Once, it had been so bad that they had to use a tranquilizer. When they had held her down and put up her arm to inject the drug into her body, Pitch had seen the parallel scars running up and down her forearms. When the girl calmed down and the others left her alone, Pitch went up to her bed, uncovered her form and saw the other cuts on her; the shallow ones were on her bottom forearms and upper legs, the deeper ones ran along either side of her thighs.

_A broken little thing she is._

That was when he decided he should try to make conversation. It has come to his knowing that she had no friends; she probably did before, and it seemed as though she didn't want any. That was fine with him, he wasn't trying to be a friend. But everyone needs someone to at least talk to. Pitch Black would be the one to know from experience. Perhaps talking to her would make up for what she has done for him, even if she didn't know what she had accomplished.

He made plain remarks about the weather to start with, not being a true conversationalist, and then that grew to obvious declarations. He wasn't expecting any reaction, but she had rolled her eyes at him in occasions, and a few times she made a sarcastic reply. The first time was when she was practicing in an obstacle course with a soccer ball, then her coach made her play along with a few kids that were also playing around in the field at that moment, and one of the kids had kicked her in the shin. The girl bent down to place her hand on the said area, hissing in frustration when she saw the beginnings of a bruise. The coach let her sit down and take a rest, and she was left alone on a bench with an ice pack on her leg.

That gave Pitch the opportunity to approach her. "That looked like it hurt," he had whispered. He didn't know if she had heard so he got a little closer and cleared his throat. "That'll leave a mark."

The blonde girl looked up and scowled at him. "Thanks for the observation, Detective Sherlock," she snapped. Then she looked around to see if anybody heard her.

_She knows that no one else could probably see me._

That coming night, Pitch had let her see him enter her room. She was sitting cross-legged on her bedside, examining him with narrowed eyes.

"So," she had finally said. "Who are you supposed to be? The Boogeyman?"

Pitch Black had nodded in response, she only raised an eyebrow and hummed before she laid down and went right to sleep. That had amused him. She was still able to sleep uncaringly even if he was in the same room as her. The fact that she wasn't afraid of him didn't bother him at all. He actually came to like talking to her. Not that he would ever voice it. The girl had grown to him as well, he noticed. She would nod at him when she saw him around during the day (which wasn't much as before, considering that he's still roaming the earth to spread fear), and they would make small talk in the night before she goes to sleep.

At some point, he had formally introduced himself. "My name is Pitch Black. So, if you would be so kind as to stop calling me by that ridiculous title."

The girl smirked, a small quirk at the corner of her mouth, the closest thing he had seen to a smile from her. "What? You don't like Mr. Boogey?"

"You say it like you're teasing me."

She shrugged. "Not my fault you feel offended by your own name. But," she stretched out her arms, reaching for the ceiling, "I think I would prefer Pitch, too."

A moment after, he had asked for her name.

She crossed her arms here. "Why do you want to know? Do you get all cozy with kids before you give them nightmares?"

He frowned at her. "Would you rather let me call you blondie?"

It was her turn to frown. She sighed before answering. "Rose. Rose Blair."

"Alright then, Rose Blair. You won't mind if I come time to time, do you?"

"To feed off of me, as you put it?" She uncrossed her arms and laid down on her back. "Do whatever you want. Not like you'd listen to me."

Pitch chuckled. "And I had already told you, blondie. You made your own nightmares."

"I thought we settled in not calling each other by our nicknames," she had said, irritation playing in her tone.

He had shrugged. She turned her head to look at him, staring at him with hard eyes. He waved a hand in the air and muttered, "Sleep." Then the girl knocked out cold. He glided forward, placing a hand next to hers, and he had jolted a little when Rose had squeezed it. He was surprised at the contact, but not as much when he saw the smile spread on her lips.

"_Père_," she had murmured, before snuggling closer to her pillow with a content sigh.

His heart had warmed up to her, and he couldn't help but think of his own daughter, Mother Nature. He thought if Rose looks up to him as a father figure, but he doubted it. She still acted like she didn't want to get close to him, and he always minded his distance.

"I don't like you," she had announced. "But I don't hate you either."

"What's with the sudden subject, blondie?"

She had shrugged. "I was just thinking. People don't like to be afraid, but they don't realize that if they don't feel scared, they can't be brave. No fear, no courage."

Pitch mused about her intuition for a brief second. "Well, that's _one _way to see it." A moment later, she had fallen asleep. _She falls asleep fast._ Pitch made his way to her closet. "Thank you, Rose," he had whispered before disappearing into the shadows.

* * *

Driving home was always such a drag. Arriving home wasn't much fun either. Rose would have to go through the big gates, wait until the survey cameras had picked her out from their screens, and then wait some more as they finally opened the black metal gates. She drove through the front yard, which was embodied with all types of greenery and water fountains (it was a great place to hide eggs in Easter, but they stopped doing that years ago), she parked the white car at the front before getting out and sprinting up the stairs. She hit the entrance right when it started to snow, and she slammed the doors behind her, pronouncing her arrival.

"I'm home!"

Several maids and servants walked by here and there, not giving her so much as a glance, but a bodyguard came to her attention and took her bag.

"Your mother is furious," he said briskly.

Rose rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen. "What else is new?"

The bodyguard followed after her. "Did you drive safe?"

The blonde girl visibly frowned at him. "I'm here, aren't I?"

He apologized quickly before leaving her alone, which is what they all did. And that was what Rose wanted them to do. She liked being alone. Well, that was what she thought, before she started talking to the very thing she promised to ignore.

_A fairy tale. Nothing but a joke._

But she had let her walls crumble, at least crack a little bit, for the shadowed man. He had seemed like someone who was always alone. Someone who had been hurt. Someone who has been shunned. Rose understood that, it was probably why she had let her guard down. And she would never admit this to him, but she looked forward to their conversations. Nowadays, however, he barely visited. And so she spent most of the nights trying to stay awake, to see if he would come. But, alas, the drugs are just too strong.

_They think I wouldn't notice them putting a dose of that stuff in the tea? I'm not an idiot. I take it voluntarily, so they should be thankful I don't act like a spoiled brat. _

She was far from being an idiot, which was why they kept her in check almost 24/7. The therapy is to keep her from going crazy, but that only makes her want to explode. And the bodyguards is to keep her from _doing _something crazy. Honestly, it's like adults don't think teenagers can outsmart them. She's done it several times already. How would she have managed to sneak out of the house if she wasn't smart enough?

_I dodge cameras and about the whole staff of this damned house, and I also remember to give the guard dogs an extra snack. Good luck barking with a snout full of bone._

Speaking of snacks, it has been a while since she's seen Spike, which was her African Pygmy hedgehog. The white and cute little domesticated hedgehog mostly stayed in her other room, playing with his toys and eating and drinking away happily to his life's content. Rose has many rooms: there's her official bedroom for her to sleep in, the one that has all her soccer equipment, and another that contains her figure skating gear. She didn't think she needed all this space.

_We have a garage for a reason._ But the garage was made more for an extra house, not a back storage. _It's like an empty doll house._

"_Rose._"

The teenager cringed inwardly when she heard her mother's voice ring behind her. The blonde turned and, sure enough, the woman was there at the kitchen's entrance. Rose was a spitting image of her mother, only younger. They have the same platinum blonde hair, the cornflower blue eyes, the white skin, the curvy back and flat stomach, the long slender legs and tiny waist, the perky busts on their chests and rear ends. The only thing they didn't have in common was their accent; Rose's mother came from Paris, France, so she had that natural french intonation, while Rose's father was born here in London, England, and his tongue was as english as they got. When Rose was younger, she had a little bit of both, but she had claimed she didn't want an accent, and so she requested for a tutor to teach her how to speak American English without any timbre of her parent's descendants. It had worked. Rose was happy. Her parents weren't.

The older version of Rose crossed her arms across her chest. "Well."

Rose feigned ignorance. "Well, what?"

The woman scowled. "Explain yourself, _jeune dame_."

Rose sighed and dumped her backside against a chair. Of course, another thing they didn't have in common was their personality. Rose figured that out sooner than she would have wished for; her mother forced her into ice skating when she was eight, and Rose got into soccer a year after to please her father, which did but it also made her mom a little edgy. Not that Rose had cared much back then. And she doesn't now.

"I went to skate, _mère_," Rose answered, picking at her sleeve. There was a loose string and it was bothering her.

Her mother distressed her shoulders. "Did you have fun, _ma douce?_"

"_Oui_," Rose nodded. "I had fun."

_Before the stupid clouds came in. I hate the winter—__it's depressing, and I stay in the house more than I have to._

"Alright then," her mother continued. "As long as you're here and safe."

_And away from a sharp blade_, Rose thought as she pulled out the unwanted string from her sweater.

* * *

**Okay, so I know I tend to use words from a different language, & so I decided to give you the definitions at the end of each chapter instead of making you do all the work and search it up yourselves. **

**You see? I'm being nice here!**

**Alright, so starting from chapter one, North had said some things in Russian:**

**1) Da - Yes**

**2) Vse ravno - All the same**

**3) Net - No**

**4) Dostatochno - Enough**

**And the French words my OC & a few others have used in this chapter:**

**1) Ma fille - My girl**

**2) Père - Father**

**3) Jeune dame - Young lady**

**4) Mère - Mother**

**5) Ma douce - My sweet**

**6) Oui - Yes**

**And I think that's about it. If I missed anything, please let me know.**

**Also, if you look this up right here - (http.) blog. modern ica (.net) /glass-houses/ (without the spaces, and ( ) of course) - you'll be able to visually see the example for Jack's house in chapter two. So, yeah, that would be the inspiration. & if that link doesn't work, then use this one: (http) :/ blog. modern ica (.net) /glass-houses/. & if _that_ doesn't work, well then you're just not gonna see it. **

**& in other news, I've only gained permission from one more person to let me use their OC's for this plot. Again, just inbox me if you're interested in seeing your character in here. I'll give you all the credit, don't worry about that. But I'm going to stop asking for OC's starting the next chapter. So this would be the last call. **

**Thank you for reading! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, hey! Another chapter done, alright! I'm going to take a little break from this story, though, to work on some other ones. But I've got a bunch of ideas rolling on the top of my head for the next chapter, so be patient! **

**Other than that, I'm introducing another OC, one that _isn't_ mine. Please make way for Krysta! Who was created by *Anony mouse101. She actually let me borrow three of her OC's, and the other two will be introduced in the coming chapters. I don't know when, but I know that they'll come along. Eventually... **

* * *

Jack woke up with a headache. He didn't even know if Guardians could get headaches, but he was finding out right now. And—_Holy mother of Jesus, this hurts!—_he wasn't taking it so well. What could he expect from getting so angry yesterday? Yeah, that's what we thought. Anyway, he was up now and cringing as the pain from his skull only heightened once he got on his feet. What can cure headaches? Are the headaches from spirits the same as the ones humans get? Jack was pretty sure it wasn't, because the pain was enough to make a human being explode from the inside. So Tylenol is irrelevant at this point. Then just what the heck? Then it came to him as soon as the second wave of pain struck his skull—_Magic_. Of course, no other remedy could be better. Now all he had to do was find someone who had such gifts.

_Sandman will just put me to sleep. Cottontail will probably make me some dumb carrot soup. Tooth won't know what to do; she knows how to handle teeth, not internal organs. And I don't want to bother North for a while. So, who can I go to?_

Maybe an old friend would know. So Jack lifted himself over his bed after he grabbed his wooden staff, then he lifted the said staff until it touched the frozen puddle over his head. The staff went through the thin-looking ice like it was just water, and then Jack was lifted upward and he was standing in the middle of the cave again. He groaned as the light hit his eyes once he reached outside, but he willed himself to go on. The wind lifted him into the skies, but he learned that if he moved too fast then the pain would be bigger. So he had to take it slow, which wasn't his thing if anybody had noticed.

_Oh, well._

He went as far as the middle of the woods, and he laid on the ground as he started to hate on the day. God, how he loathed the sun at this moment; it sent its rays on his face and through to his brain like it was roasting season. And it was mid-November. He raised his hand to cover his eyes as he strained to open them. He heard a small noise beside him and turned his head slightly to see a black cat trotting toward him, its orange eyes sparking with curiosity. Jack groaned as he got up, still having a hand on his head, and looked at the cat as it stopped a few paces from him. He watched as the feline molded into something else, transforming and shaping into a human body—its black fur was gone in exchange for skin and clothes, the only fur on the figure was hair on top of its head, and its eyes changed from orange to green. And, of course, the human figure was that of a female. She wore black pants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and black comfort boots that have black fur lining the outside. The only thing that she wore that wasn't black was the red ribbon around her neck, and the red bow that had her shoulder-length hair clipped back from her face.

She smirked when she saw Jack. "What's with that expression, Frosty? Don't like seeing an old friend?"

The female's human form considered of pale skin and black hair, she looked sixteen, an age younger than what Jack looked like. They were good friends since the day they met, regarding the fact that she was as mischievous and good-humored as he was, maybe even more so since she just _loved_ to pull pranks. But she knew when to stop, when enough was enough, and she was often looked upon as a good luck charm because she had the power of fortune (but most of it was bad). Jack took her powers into consideration, but he needed true magic, not luck.

Jack tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Krysta. Just the spirit I wanted to see."

The female's smile disappeared as she surveyed him. "You look like sh—"

"I know what I look like! Do you mind helping me out?"

Krysta shrugged as she walked toward the winter spirit, putting his arm over her shoulder and letting him put some weight on her side as she helped him walk ahead. "Were you attacked?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry.

"No, just a really bad headache."

Krysta nodded. "Hate those. One of the many other bad things that comes from being a spirit."

"Preach it, sister."

She laughed softly, making sure the volume wasn't enough to make him cringe. After a while of silently walking through the woods, Krysta started to wonder out loud. "So, what do you expect me to do?"

"Do you know anyone who has magic?"

"That's obvious, Jack. Just go to the Pole, and—"

"_No_," Jack quickly interrupted her. "I don't want to see North right now."

Krysta didn't question him, so she only continued to think. Then, "How about Raven?"

"Who?"

"She's a spirit I once met. She's not really good, but she's not bad either. I'm sure she can help. She's protector of the night, she goes to children who have nightmares and absorbs them."

"OK, that's nice. _How the heck do we find her?_" Jack said impatiently, not at the moment caring of who or what this Raven person was, he just wanted her magic. If she had any.

Krysta frowned. "Weren't you listening to me? She comes out at night, so we'll have to wait."

Jack pouted. "I don't want to wait that long."

"Shut up, Frosty. You can be such a baby sometimes," she said with a roll of her eyes. "We can look around if you want, but don't expect to find her until it gets dark."

"Or maybe _I'll_ find _you_," a voice rang out, as a small figure appeared behind them.

The other two spirits turned to see a little girl, who didn't look any older than ten. She had long black hair, which had a tint of purple in it, and her skin was a light peach. Her outfit consisted of a sleeveless black dress that went down to her knees, a silver bow was wrapped around her tiny waist, and another silver-and-black bow pulled her long hair back into a ponytail. She had silver ballet flats for shoes, and she wore a little witch hat on her head that had another, much smaller, silver ribbon on it. Jack expected her to carry a broom with her, and a pet bat following her around. The little spirit narrowed her gold eyes at him, clearly reading his thoughts (not literally).

Krysta spoke first. "Raven. How did you find us?"

The younger-looking female scoffed. "I could hear your bickering all the way to the other side of the planet."

Jack lifted his head a little higher in surprise. "Really?"

Krysta bonked him on the head. "No, doofus, she was being sarcastic." She stared back at the little spirit. "Were you?"

Raven didn't answer her, instead she said, "Why were you looking for me?"

Jack spoke up. "I'm looking for someone who can cure my—"

"Headache," Raven finished, a pained expression grazing her face. "I can feel it. It's tremendous. A young spirit shouldn't have such a bad one as the one you're having right now."

"Who you calling young?" Jack asked as he did a quick one-over to Raven.

Krysta bonked him on the head again. "She meant it as a good thing. She's just a bit over one-hundred years, so be nice."

"Would you stop hitting me on the head?!" Jack said as he rubbed the top of skull. "You're gonna kill me!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Krysta let go of him as she crossed her arms and looked to the witch spirit still standing in front of them. "Can you help him?"

Raven nodded. "Of course. That sort of pain alone is enough to make anyone try to kill themselves."

Jack sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," the little girl said as she moved closer to them. She put a hand on his head when she was close enough to reach. "Now, try to relax and hold still." She barely finished her sentence when the pain from his head instantly vanished. She stepped back. "Is it better?"

"Yes," Jack said, unbelievingly. "It's a lot better now. Thank you."

Krysta smiled. "Amazing as always, Raven."

The golden-eyed girl nodded. "Glad that you're feeling better," she said, even though she showed no emotion to tell that she meant it. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to take care of some business."

Krysta, being the curious little thing that she is, asked her before Jack could. "Really? With who? Where? Why?"

Jack nudged her elbow. "Stop it, before you give _all _of us a headache."

The feline-changing spirit only stuck her tongue out at him. Raven inclined her head slightly, almost like a bow, and bid them farewell. Jack watched as she flew off, and mentally thanked her again for curing his headache. He could think much more clearly now. And now that he did, he was wondering what he should do next.

_The winter season just started in Europe. I should go and take a look around._

Jack waved to Krysta as he floated in the air, relishing the feeling of the wind at his side. "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it, Frosty."

"See you later, pussy cat."

"I'll slit your throat for that later," Krysta said with a smirk, but the dangerous look to her eyes made Jack cautious.

He laughed nervously before leaving her behind.

* * *

Raven kept flying until she felt _his _presence again, making a sharp turn to the left. She stopped as she found herself standing by a frozen pond, the ice traveling to the thin layer of snow and thick dark trees surrounding the area. She floated on top of the frozen pond, seeing the reflection of the pale sun dancing on the smooth surface. She looked around, trying to feel anything—any_one—_nearby. Then she felt a dark and familiar presence that was close. Very close.

"You just can't keep away from me, can you?"

Raven nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Pitch's voice right next to her ear. She knew he was close, but she didn't know he was _that_ close. She looked up, and he was standing right there beside her, bending over so he could be face-to-face with her. Raven contained herself as best as she could, and she hoped that it wasn't so bright as to let Pitch know that she was blushing.

_ He's so close, it feels like his eyes are burning into my own. And my face feels so hot—Ugh! Control yourself, Raven. You can daydream all you want later._

The younger spirit willed her hands to move and she pushed him away, gaining some distance from him. Pitch smirked at her ferocity, clearly amused at her reaction. Raven tried to come up with a spell, but her mind became empty, and all she could think of was how this was the first time they spoke in what felt like decades.

"Pitch!" Raven tried to keep her voice hard, but that was difficult when you felt like you would melt right at the spot. "You're—"

"Here," he said, walking toward her. He looked like he was gliding, smooth steps and calm expression. "Yes. And so are you. Why?"

Raven went through her mental script, trying to pick up the words she had kept inside for so long. But all that came out was, "That girl."

Pitch raised his eyebrows. "What?"

She wanted to slap herself but found that she was frozen yet again by his silver-gold eyes. _Really? That's all I can come up with? "That girl"? Someone kill me, please._ She shook her head and continued. "You know what I'm talking about. Why are you stalking her?"

He chuckled, and Raven felt dread form in the pit of her stomach. "It's not called stalking if she knows when I'm there," he answered.

Raven gasped. "You... You made a teenager believe in you? How?"

Pitch shrugged. "How she's able to see spirits without believing in them is a mystery to me."

"She doesn't believe? Then how...?" Raven thought for a moment before she figured it out herself. _Once children reach their respective ages, around their preteen years, then they slowly stop believing, even if they still want to. This human girl must be a part of the unlucky ones who can still see a fantasy mixing with reality. _ The witch spirit became serious once again.

Pitch continued. "She has created her own nightmares."

The witch put her hands on her hips. "Every human has nightmares, Pitch."

"I meant _my_ type of nightmares."

Raven's eyes widened. "How?"

"Fear resides in everyone's hearts. The Sandman's dreamsand must still reach her, like any other child, because she still has the ability to see us, even if she doesn't believe. She starts off normal, but then her dreams suddenly change into nightmares on their own." Pitch shook his head here. "It's almost a shame to see someone live through the same nightmare every night."

"How would you know that?" She put two and two together and she figured it out on her own before he would answer. "You've been watching her sleep."

"Yes."

"And absorbed her nightmares."

"Yes and no. I absorb the energy from the nightmares, but I can't take them away, even if I tried." He smiled and motioned to her. "Which is why I came to you."

Raven suddenly felt like _she_ was the one who was being hunted down. Like always, she ended up in trouble whenever she seeked him out. But it turned out, _he _was seeking _her _this time. "Why do you need me?"

"Why else?" Pitch said. "I need you to absorb her nightmares for me."

If it was jealousy she thought she would feel, she was wrong. Instead, she felt a little hopeful. Has Pitch changed? "Why do you want to help her, Pitch?"

The Boogeyman crossed his arms behind his back. "Take a look at her yourself, and you'll see why."

"I already have Night looking after her."

"For how long?"

She felt flustered all of a sudden, and she hesitated to answer. "It's only been a day."

"Not enough." He uncrossed his arms and extended his arm to her. "We'll go to her." When Raven didn't make any movements, he sighed. "Will you help me, Raven? _Please._"

Raven stared at Pitch for a moment, and then she nodded and reached for his offered hand.

* * *

It was around eight in the afternoon when Rose went into her room. She placed Spike on her bed, which was being made for her slumber by a maid. Most maids in the mansion were citizens of England, but there were a few French and some Italians. This certain maid that was busy pampering Rose's pillow was Italian. Rose cleared her throat and the maid turned in surprise.

_Really?_ Rose thought with a frown. _This is _my_ room. Who did she expect?_ She shook her head. "It's alright. I can make my own bed." _Honestly, I bet the Queen herself doesn't get this much royal treatment._

The maid nodded roughly, almost bowing at the process. "_Sì, signorina._"

"Just call me Rose."

"Yes, alright," the maid responded hurriedly, her thick accent rolling on her tongue like caramel. "Need anything else, _Signorina_ Rose?"

The blonde sighed in defeat, but she nodded anyway. "You can prepare my bath," then, remembering the lessons from her latin tutor, she added, "_Per favore_."

The maid became less nervous, Rose learned that if you speak their native tongue then they will instantly like you. The older woman nodded again before heading to her bathroom, opening the faucet and taking out the soap for the girl's bubble bath.

_I need to relax. The stress keeps me unfocused during practice._

When the bath was prepared, the maid saw her way out of the room and Rose got her bedtime clothes ready. She was about to get into the bath when she heard a flap of wings and a squeak from Spike right after. Rose ran back into her room and grabbed her pet hedgehog, then turned to see a raven perched upon her balcony. She stared blankly at it as Spike wrap itself into a ball on her hands, she stroked his spiky little back while still staring at the raven as it watched her as well. Rose didn't like the bird looking at her with those intelligent eyes of coal, but his presence didn't feel like it was harmful. To her, at least.

_Quoth the raven, "Nevermore"_, Rose thought, and she told herself she's been spending too much time with her mother. But quoting poems has become more like a natural instinct, she even quoted books and movies. Her mother always said that she had a good memory. Now, back to the raven... _Why is it just standing there looking at me?_

Rose looked around her room, then, still keeping a hold of Spike, she reached out her leg and took out her soccer ball from under her bedside. She patted it a few times, trying to get a good angle, and then kicked it right at the bird. The raven cawed and flew out of the ball's reach. Rose cursed as the soccer ball went flying out of her room and into the back gardens. She put Spike near her chest protectively as she neared the balcony, stepping outside as she looked down to see where the ball could have landed. The raven flap its wings and cawed a few times, almost like it was laughing at her. Rose clicked her tongue in annoyance and she laid Spike on one hand as she made the other make shoo motions at the black bird.

"Go away!" But the raven stayed where it was, only moving slightly to dodge her hand. Rose huffed in frustration. "You're as stubborn as Pitch."

"Did I just hear you compare me to a bird?"

The girl turned around and faced to see the Boogeyman standing on the ledge of her balcony, along with a little girl dressed in black-and-silver, who had long black tresses held back to frame her young face, and gold eyes as bright and sharp as the stars. Rose's own eyes fell on the girl's little pointy hat, and the human automatically started to back off.

"_Sorcière!_"

The little dark-haired girl raised her eyebrows. "Never had _that _reaction before."

Rose pointed at her, then at Pitch, and then back at the girl. "Pitch, just who...What the hell...?"

The Boogeyman smirked at her, obviously amused. "This is Raven, another spirit such as me."

"OK, that's nice. _What the hell is she doing here?_"

The witch, now known to Rose as Raven, tipped her tiny hat to her. "I'm here under Pitch's concern for you."

The shadowed man looked down at the small spirit as if he was just sprayed with cold water. "It's _not_ concern. It's more like—"

"Concern," Raven said, glaring back at the tall man.

Rose frowned, feeling Spike unwrap himself from his ball form. "Why should you be?"

Pitch stared back at her. "Do you have to ask?"

The human female felt blood drain from her face. "Oh." _He knows about the scars? I mean, I know he might have seen my dreams a couple of times, but... _She felt anger bubble up in her chest. _I don't need another psychiatrist._ She made herself stand straighter and willed her voice to not quiver as she spoke. "I need to take a bath. A long one."

Pitch shrugged. "We won't mind waiting."

Raven looked at him and Rose saw uncertainty there. _She's a spirit, so she must have certain duties like Pitch has with spreading fear. Wonder what it is... _She told herself not to seem like she cared and headed back inside. Rose placed Spike in his cage, which was more like a fence taking up a huge space on her floor, and saw the raven land on the little girl's shoulder.

The witch stroked its feathers. "You did well, Night. I'll give you extra worms for dinner."

Rose stared at Raven. "That's _your_ bird?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just keep him away from Spike."

Raven looked down at the said pet and a smile reached her eyes. "You have a hedgehog and yet you judge _me?_"

Rose shrugged. "Fair enough."

Pitch leaned against her wall. "Would you just get in the bath?"

Rose stomped into her bathroom and slammed the door closed. _Damn bossy spirits. Bet they wouldn't like it if I brought strangers to _their _homes. Why does this keep happening to me?_

* * *

**Alright, time to take out the translator!**

**Italian:**

**1) _Sì, signorina_ - Yes, miss**

**2) _Per favore_ - Please**

**The last one is in French:**

**1) _Sorcière_ - Witch**

**And that's about it. **

**Thanks for reading. Update coming soon! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Phew! Okay, I'm back... **

**I've got nothing much to say here, so I guess you can just...go ahead and read now. I guess. :/ **

**Reviews are appreciated! :) **

* * *

Jack was enjoying his time outside, now that his head was clear. He looked around him, having finished traveling the whole European continent and stopping by in England. It took him a whole day to finish his business on one continent, and he decided he should stay overnight in the U.K. for a while, promising himself to go to the continents of Asia right after. Now that he thought about it, he might be a day late in Japan.

_ Oh, well. Russia is going to have plenty of snow days, so it's all good._

The crescent moon above him didn't promise any guidance soon, but the lights of the cities were enough. The leaves around him were still glued to their spindly branches, hanging like sappy decorations. Their colors arranged from yellow to gold, orange to red, and all the hues in between. But now since the fall is closing, it's time for winter to settle in. The said seasonal spirit smiled almost devilishly as he flew across tree after tree, shaking the leaves off of branches and sprinkling them with frost. He commanded the wind to build up and the clouds to form above, arranging them so that only the thinnest of clouds obscured the moon, though not completely. He went from window to window, blowing the wind into the rooms of some surprised adults and giggling children. He waved at a few of them before making his way further down the city.

He wasn't a big fan of the city life; it's crowded, people are rude, pollution and garbage take up most of the air (along with their nose-scrunching stench). But, ironically, it's in the cities where it gets colder. And that isn't a coincidence. Even if Jack hates to hear the adults curse and swear in front of their own kids, he loves to see what the big deal is about technology. Jamie had shown him what an 'Xbox' was, and Jack was intrigued from the buttons on the controller to the movements of a certain object on-screen. North liked to stay in the old traditions, sticking with teddy bears and toy trains, and he was stubborn to change what he did. Not that Jack could blame him, the technology with all its uses and specifics gave him a headache sometimes. The cars, for example. Is it really necessary to honk at the person in front of you so they could move, even if the street light barely turned green?

_I'd like to freeze their cars in place and _make_ them walk, those lazy good-for-nothing's. _

He was just about done, the snow finally falling lazily down to the earth below. He looked up to the sky and smiled when he saw golden sand snake through people's homes, already making way to children's dreams.

_Sandy might be close by. I don't want any of them to see me for a while._

Deciding that he did enough for the night, he went on his way to scout himself a place to rest.

* * *

Rose made sure she took her time in the bath, savoring the warmth of the water and the slick feel of the bubbles on her skin. She leaned down further into the tub, the bottom of her lower lip just above the surface of the steaming water. She sighed in contempt and lifted up a leg, marveling at how long and white they were. She then lifted up her arm and turned it to see the scars. Most of them faded away now. She had only cut herself when she was younger, and stupid. Now she's older, more mature and a lot more wiser.

_If only they faded away completely. People would probably stop looking at me the way they do. Like I'm a delicate person that needs to be treated specifically, or I'll crack. _Rose dug her fingers into her palm, the fist shaking from her sudden anger. _I am not made out of glass!_

* * *

The hedgehog and Night were getting along better than Raven had thought. If anything, she had suspected her pet to try to eat the little spiky creature, or at least claw at it, or peck it. Whatever. Just something that didn't include playing Leapfrog. Night just kept jumping over the poor creature, the small white hedgehog staying in its ball form the entire time. Nonetheless, it was entertaining while the human girl took her _sweet little time_ in that damned bath. Not that Raven could blame her for trying to get away for the moment.

"She must have a lot on her mind," Raven muttered, but loud enough for Pitch to hear.

The said man nodded, bumping the back of his head to the wall. "Seriously. How much time do girls need to take a bath?"

Raven smirked. "As long as it takes."

"How much time are we talking here?"

The witch couldn't help but to show her amusement. She rarely sees Pitch Black complain like this. "When it comes to girls—_young women_, that is—it can take up to several hours."

"_Hours?_"

Raven smiled, enjoying the moment. It's been a while since she teased him like this. She shrugged her delicate shoulders as she continued. "It all depends, really."

Suddenly, they heard the splashing of water. They heard some grunts behind the door, followed by some light footsteps, and then some tinkling of more water hitting the floor. There was a moment or two before the doorknob began to move, and out came Rose, looking and smelling as fresh and sweet as a flower.

She wore loose pajama silk pants and a matching silk shirt that was deemed tighter than the bottoms, they were the color of peach and the shirt was embroidered with intricate designs that swirled at the end of the shirt and thinned at the top. She wore a long white cardigan that stopped mid-thigh, a strap wrapped around her waist to keep the woolen sweater around her body without her arms enfolding it. Her long platinum hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, looking like a small waterfall of pure light, and her skin shone along with her tresses because of the soft glow of the bathroom light shining behind her frame. All in all, Rose resembled that of an angel. But her eyes gave her away, the shade of azure looked dark and empty, almost hollow. And if there were a smile instead of a scowl, then Raven could have mistaken the shadowed look to her eyes as the simple color of her irises.

Rose had a tooth-brush in her mouth, and she was looking at her pet hedgehog with a concerned look, her hand at her hip while the other kept the rhythm of the brush strokes along her already perfect-and-white teeth. When the girl was satisfied that the raven hadn't hurt her pet, she went back in the restroom. There was a running of water as she turned on the faucet, a slurp, a gurgle, then a spit. She turned off the faucet as she wiped her mouth clean with a nearby towel, then settled the fabric down before finally turning off the bathroom lights. She went toward Spike and picked him up gently, then placed him on her mattress, settling herself down next to the domesticated hedgehog. Night flew across the room, landing on the desk near Raven. Rose crossed her legs, yoga style, placing Spike in the space her long legs made, and looked up to the young-looking witch.

The blonde opened her full, pink lips to speak. "Alright. I don't know you, you don't know me. Obviously, there's no trust in that equation." Her gaze fell on Pitch. "Not that I trusted you much either."

The Boogeyman shrugged. "No offense taken."

"I wasn't trying to offend you." She turned back to Raven before continuing. "Now, tell me why he brought you here, or the reason why you decided to come to see me. I'm pretty sure you're not completely against your will." She leaned forward a bit, whispering to the young witch spirit. "_Are you?_"

Raven had to grin to that assumption. "I assure you, I'm not here against my will."

Rose nodded. "Oh, good. I didn't want to go through a Die Hard moment there." When she saw the confused stares the spirits gave her, she shrugged. "Movie reference." She continued to stroke Spike's back gently. She felt her fingers graze against the sharp points as she gazed at Pitch for answers. "Why did you bring her here?"

Pitch straightened himself. "Raven is a witch spirit that I've met a while back..."

The dark-haired girl narrowed her eyes. "_You_ were the one who turned me into a witch in the first place."

He sighed. "Are we really going to discuss that right now?"

When Raven didn't say anything, Rose arched her eyebrow in curiosity, but she told herself to save her questions for later. It might have been personal.

Pitch moved on. "Anyway... Raven is a witch, but she also has a special talent. Something that can help you, Rose."

The human female frowned. "Help me? What makes you think I need help?"

The shadowed man shook his head. "I am not giving you another couch doctor, blondie, so relax. You remember when I told you how I spread fear in children?"

Rose nodded. "Through their dreams, but how—"

"Just hear him out," Raven interrupted, crossing her arms along her chest. "I also need to know what's going on."

"You went along with him even though you didn't know why?" Rose asked, a tad of tease in her tone that only Pitch picked up.

Raven blushed in embarrassment. "No, I—"

Pitch smirked. "Just couldn't keep away from me."

Raven's blush reddened. "N-No! Not even—It's n-not _that!_"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Can we move along, please?"

"Yes," Raven agreed hastily, clearing her throat. "I concur."

Pitch shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright. Long story short... Raven can absorb nightmares." He waited for Rose's reaction, but she was good at hiding those. "So, you'll have a good night's rest, blondie."

Rose scoffed. "I know what it means, I am not an imbecile." Her gaze softened as she stood up and placed Spike back down in his preferable spot on the floor. She went back to her bed and settled herself under the covers. She sighed. "Okay. I want to try it out. _But_," she added, glaring at Raven, "don't get inside my head. My thoughts are _off-limits_. Understood?"

The witch spirit nodded, smiling firmly, business-like. "Yes, ma'am." _Not that I was able to do that, anyway._

The blonde turned to the Boogeyman. "By the way, why did you want—"

"Questions asked later," he said in a rush.

The girl hummed, might have been in amusement, or she just plain didn't care. But she nodded at him with a grateful look. "_Merci_, Pitch."

Rose went ahead and closed her eyes, her breathing smooth and rhythmic. The witch noted that the girl fell asleep rather quickly. The spirits waited until the familiar golden sand of the Sandman appeared in the room, going in through the glass doors that made the entrance to the balcony. The sand made its way to Rose's head, just like Raven expected. What she did _not_ expect was to see the sand suddenly swirl around like a mad whirlwind and turn the color of charcoal. She looked at Pitch with wide eyes, and she could see that he was also surprised.

"That was more extreme than the other times," he said.

Raven felt a flare start in her stomach, the feeling she gets whenever she knows she needs to do something about a situation. She unclenched her fist and raised her hand. "Time to go to work."

* * *

Jack flew up to a pole, close to a huge house with an amazing garden in the front. He was used to seeing mansions, with their fancy gates and their expensive-looking cars at the front. But there was a certain light coming from one of the windows, and it didn't seem quite right...

There had been gold sand snaking its way inside, and then suddenly the light had somehow changed into _shadow_. There was bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he was going to find out why that is.

_Pitch might be back. It would be better if I told the others about this first..._

No, he decided with a shake of his head. He was strong enough to take care of Pitch Black on his own. He just hoped whoever the kid was, that he or she was okay.

* * *

Rose was beginning to squirm under the covers, her scowl being replaced by a frown, her forehead scrunched in a grimace. The sand wasn't showing any figures but the girl was whimpering like it was crystal clear for only her to see.

Pitch glowered in concern. "This is different than the other times. It's almost like she's creating her own—"

"Fearlings?" Raven inquired with an arch of her brow.

He nodded, his brows furrowed down. "Hurry."

Raven touched the swirling sand gingerly with the tip of her fingers, as the dark dream dust was moving so rapidly that it looked like it could cut through her skin. She felt it brush against her forefinger, and she sighed in relief when it quickly started to turn back to its golden glory. She pressed her hand further into the mini-tornado of sand, the room being showered with a soft glow, and she began to shiver as she absorbed the fear. It was greater than she had anticipated and she stayed grounded for a moment, but then the sand expanded uncontrollably, and Raven had to be pulled back by Pitch so she could remember how to use her legs. The spirits stepped back and put up their hands as the dream sand exploded, gold dust twinkling down to the carpet. Rose let out a shaky breath, then she suddenly jerked up and fell to the floor, landing on her side with a thud. Raven squeaked in surprise, looking in shock as the human kept gasping and coughing.

"What the hell was that?" Rose managed to say. She got up shakily, and Raven bent over to help. When she was seating back down, a hand on her throbbing temple, she glared down at her feet. "What just happened?" She looked up and Pitch saw that she was shaking. "It felt like gravity weighed itself on my chest. It was all dark, there were glowing eyes, there were voices, there were claws..." Rose turned back to stare at Raven. "What did you do to me?"

The witch spirit shook her head, and she kept on shaking as she spoke. "I...I don't know. I didn't realize that could ever happen." Her head stopped shaking, but her eyes didn't, they wavered as she stared at nothing in particular. "That wasn't normal."

"Oh, goody," Rose said sarcastically. "I'm a freak."

"No, you are not," Pitch assured her. He crossed his arms as he began to think. "How old were you when your father died?"

Rose held back a snap. "I was twelve. Why?"

Pitch looked down to the dark-haired girl next to him. "That's about the age children stop believing, correct?"

Raven nodded. "Around twelve or thirteen. In some cases, some don't stop believing at all."

He waved his hand in the air, as if that matter wasn't important. "Yes, yes. But being in that age, and having a life-altering moment at that time..." He stepped forward to get closer to Rose. "Her mind completely shunning the idea of fairy tales while her eyes stayed open to our world, possibly encouraging the idea of her insanity, therefore..." He grabbed the girl's wrist and made her arm turn right-side up. "Injuring herself purposely," he said, observing the scars.

Rose pulled her hand back forcefully. "I don't need you to criticize me!"

"He's not judging you, Rose," Raven said as a look of worry flashed in her watered eyes, they looked like they were dipped in a pool of stars. "We know there are other reasons why you would commit self-harm. But it's just that if you add all of those facts along with why you seem to sleep so quickly... Drugs, perhaps? And Pitch has mentioned a couch doctor. You must have been to therapy."

Rose didn't even try to deny it. "I've attended psychiatry. I've even been told I could be sent to a mental hospital." She shrugged here. "When I was thirteen, I kept talking about fairies going into my room and a huge rabbit creature visiting my gardens every year. Some time later, I told myself to get over it and just stop talking about that nonsense completely. I dodged a bullet and I was able to enjoy the rest of my life without taking a visit to the doctors every so often. But I still had to go to therapy, just in case."

Raven and Pitch looked at each other after she stopped speaking. They nodded and Raven stepped up to speak.

"This had happened before to other children. They've also created their own nightmares. The only difference is, they didn't have dream sand. They grew up and stopped believing. Those are what we call the 'broken ones'. They grow up to be adults that have completely lost their imagination."

Rose nodded, trying to follow along. "Okay..."

Raven continued. "For some reason, you can still see us, the dream sand hasn't stopped visiting you, and you were able to create your own nightmares. Only thing is, we think that maybe this is a little more extreme than Pitch had thought."

The human girl lifted up her knees and laid her chin on the said area, and she pulled up the covers to her chin. "What is it?"

Pitch answered for her. "You have created something greater than a nightmare, called a Fearling."

"_Quoi?_" Rose frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Usually, children would turn into Fearlings, not make their own. And since you aren't a child, I can't think of a valuable answer."

"Unless..." Raven began, then stopped.

"Unless what?" Rose asked, her voice empty and tired.

"Unless you've become like a magnet of some sort," Raven explained. "Some children who believe have enough energy to create their own dreams." She turned to Pitch here. "Like those group of kids who converted your Nightmares back into the form of the Sandman. It might be the same for you, Rose. Since you're more of an adult now, and you can still see without believing, then you radiate this sort of 'dark' energy. You get me?"

The human moaned as her head started to pound. "I'm trying."

"Okay, let me break it down for you. Rose, you've become like a black hole. You suck all the nightmares, and they get stronger off of you." Raven glared at Pitch. "_You_ haven't been helping much by just standing there and absorbing bits of that energy. Those nightmares will soon become too big to be just a simple dream. What happened now was an example. How old are you right now, Rose?"

The girl was beginning to shake again, even though the blanket enfolding her body was warming her to the bone. "I'm seventeen."

Raven sighed. "Eighteen is the official age of an adult, or an adolescent. When's your next birthday?"

"This coming December."

"By that time, the Fearlings will engulf you, and they'll take over from there." She saw the silver-and-golden-eyed man clench his fists at the corner of her vision. "You'll probably gain your very own sidekick, Pitch."

Rose looked at Pitch. "That's what happened to you? That's how you turned into..." She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. The shadowed spirit nodded anyway. She felt shivers run down her spine. "How can I stop it?"

The witch shook her head. "I'm not sure."

"Then I just won't sleep. That can help, right?"

"You have to sleep," the young spirit replied. "You don't want another reason for them to take you back to see the psychiatrist, do you?" When she saw the panicked expression on the human girl's face, Raven tried to calm her down. "Sleeping is required, but maybe dreaming isn't. I can help you with that."

Pitch was the one to ask, "How?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "I'm a witch." She stepped forward and took Rose by the shoulders, easing her down back on the mattress. "Go back to sleep."

Rose grabbed a hold of Raven's tiny wrist, clutching it rather tightly. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It will," the with spirit replied, her eyes boring into Rose's. "Trust me."

The human looked from Raven, to Pitch, and back. Then she nodded and let go of Raven's wrist. But before she was able to open her mouth to voice her 'okay', there was a banging sound as the balcony doors were opened. They all turned to see, standing right there, not too far from them, another spirit. This one, Rose noted, looked around her age with white hair, bright blue eyes, a dark blue hoodie with snowflake designs, weird-and-tight-looking brown bottoms, he was barefoot, and he carried a staff that was thrice as thinner and a little taller. The pale-skinned boy narrowed his eyes dangerously, and Rose shivered as the room dropped down several temperatures. She was surprised to feel goosebumps form on her skin, even if she was under three layers of blankets, and she was even more surprised to see her breathe in front of her.

Raven and him exchanged glances before his eyes rested on Pitch. Then the witch spirit looked down to Rose and she saw that she was still holding the human girl down by the shoulders. And having Pitch nearby wasn't helping matters.

The dark-haired girl groaned in frustration. "This doesn't look good, does it?"

"No," the mysterious white-haired boy answered, now standing in the middle of the room. He was staring daggers at Pitch Black. "It doesn't."

* * *

**I only have like maybe one French word in here that I need to translate...**

**_Quoi?_ = What?**

**Okay, I hope you enjoyed that. Tell me if this chapter was a little too long. I felt that it was. **

**Anyways... Bai~ until next time! :3**


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